That night sleeps Sigurd the Volsung, and awakes on the morrow-morn,
    And wots at the first but dimly what thing in his life hath been born: 
    But the sun cometh up in the autumn, and the eve he remembered,
    And the word he hath given to Gudrun to love her to the death;
    And he longs for the Niblung maiden, that her love may cherish his
      heart,
    Lest e’en as a Godhead banished he dwell in the world apart: 
    The new sun smiteth his body as he leaps from the golden bed,
    And doeth on his raiment and is fair apparelled;
    Then he goes his ways through the chambers, and greeteth none at all
    Till he comes to the garth and the garden in the nook of the Niblung
      wall.

    Now therein, mid the yellowing leafage, and the golden blossoms spent,
    Alone and lovely and eager the white-armed Gudrun went;
    Swift then he hasteneth toward her, and she bideth his drawing near,
    And now in the morn she trembleth; for her love is blent with fear;
    And wonder is all around her, for she deemed till yestereve,
    When she saw the earls astonied, and the golden Sigurd grieve,
    That on some most mighty woman his joyful love was set;
    And love hath made her humble, and her race doth she forget,
    And her noble and mighty heart from the best of the Niblungs sprung,
    The sons of the earthly War-Gods of the days when the world was young. 
    Yea she feareth her love and his fame, but she feareth his sorrow most,
    Lest he spake from a heart o’erladen and counted not the cost. 
    But lo, the love of his eyen, and the kindness of his face! 
    And joy her body burdens, and she trembleth in her place,
    And sinks in the arms that cherish with a faint and eager cry,
    And again on the bosom of Sigurd doth the head of Gudrun lie.

    Fairer than yestereven doth Sigurd deem his love,
    And more her tender wooing and her shame his soul doth move;
    And his words of peace and comfort come easier forth from him,
    And woman’s love seems wondrous amidst his trouble dim;
    Strange, sweet, to cling together! as oft and o’er again
    They crave and kiss rejoicing, and their hearts are full and fain.

    Then a little while they sunder, and apart and anigh they stand,
    And Sigurd’s eyes grow awful as he stretcheth forth his hand,
    And his clear voice saith: 
                              “O Gudrun, now hearken while I swear
    That the sun shall die for ever and the day no more be fair. 
    Ere I forget thy pity and thine inmost heart of love! 
    Yea, though the Kings be mighty, and the Gods be great above,
    I will wade the flood and the fire, and the waste of war forlorn,
    To look on the Niblung dwelling, and the house where thou wert born.”

    Strange seemed the words to Sigurd that his gathering love compelled,
    And sweet and strange desire o’er his tangled trouble welled.